A Constant Battle

Violence is prevalent on the streets of Philadelphia, particularly around my school. Located at 52nd and Lancaster, the school is on the northern end of Murder Alley--a nickname for 52nd Street north of Market. Our children come from these streets, these families, and this violence.

Yet, it is never them that I fight. It is only the ridiculous school policies and politics that I am constantly battling.

The past month-and-a-half have been spent fighting, at least in a figurative sense. Fighting for heat in my closet-sized classroom, for light in the Special Education room, for more space so that the children who need foundational skills can actually focus and learn. I've fought for the falling ceilings to be repaired, for the multi-purpose room (which turns into the neighborhood night club on weekends) to be a safe place for our children.

I've been battling discrimination from certain staff members based on the color of my skin. I've battled Stewart's newly found mental illness and tantrums--not to mention pushing for him to get the mental and physical health treatment he needs.

Most recently, I have been fighting to get books for my children who are 2, 3, and 4 years behind in reading. Yes, as the reading specialist I do not have books to teach literacy. And when you look at the street violence and the fact that policymakers look at male literacy in 3rd grade to determine how many prisons to build, having no books is repulsive. Even criminal.

It seems as if the cards are stacked against my students--not because they choose this or their parents choose this, but because school politics disregard the reason we are here in the first place: to teach each other and to learn.

The true challenge is to transform my anger into hope for change. There is so much potential. We just have to act now. My children can't wait much longer...